


The Escapist

by Michinokao



Series: Reincarnations Gone Wrong, Right or Sexual [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drawing, F/M, Family Shenanigans, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Multi, References to Depression, Self-Insert, Tsukuyomi is broken, Writing, accidental suicide (this tag is still weird), reupload
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 17:05:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17369945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michinokao/pseuds/Michinokao
Summary: I’m Sasuke. No, you misunderstand me - I’m Sasuke but I wasn’t before.In which it’s me in Sasuke’s body all of a sudden because of Itachi’s Tsukuyomi and I’m neither an avenger nor a total social reject. And everybody thinks it’s weird that the last Uchiha has hobbies like a normal person.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Repost (thanks to potterinu)

I know most people don’t expect to be thrown into a fictional world after their death. To a certain degree, I was surprised as well but that’s just it. Like, I was marginally surprised. Honestly, my life has been everything but normal and waking up in a stranger’s bed isn’t the oddest thing to have occurred in my nineteen years on Earth.

I’m just glad that I still live.

Oh.

I’m... Sasuke. Well, that’s alarming. Heh. A storm of memories blast through my head as soon as I remember who I am. At first I don’t know why I’m even here but then the endless days and nights (more like hundreds and thousands of nights spent repeatedly witnessing Sasuke’s parents’ deaths) flood my poor brain. Itachi’s Tsukuyomi sure has fucked me up – or Sasuke, anyways.

I had been a floating soul back then; one without any idea on what to do after death. When you die, you’re just kind of on your own. Most souls, I have noticed during my ghost time, are forcefully pulled into the reincarnation cycle at one point or another. Others are hovering around, not really being a part of any dimension, until they find their further purpose – becoming the life source of nature or obtaining an existence as an animal.

It’s just like me to stumble into a world which is akin to my first world’s “Naruto” universe. I came at a critical moment, when Sasuke had been nothing but broken figments of a person (which could be really dangerous should he have continued living without me) and the shattered soul has grabbed mine. A large part of Uchiha Sasuke has been returned to this world’s chakra system. I can feel particles of him in the air, carefully caressing a body that now belongs to me.

His memories are intertwined with mine... I guess both of us have been too cracked to go on as individual souls so we have combined them and created a stable one. However, because I was nineteen when I died, I fill out the most part of our person. Sasuke is my body and eight years of my memories while I am all the rest and we both are okay with that.

I inhale deeply and assess the situation while I’m at it. There are white walls around me but I know it isn’t the Uchiha compound. Hospital? Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s the resident Konoha hospital. Slowly standing up from the bed, I proceed with stretching my stiff limbs.

Suddenly, I hear hurried footsteps from outside. A woman barges in and instantly I know she’s one of those who will gladly crawl up my ass when I spot the pity practically pouring out of her eyes.

“Yo.” I say with a lazy hand wave. She stares at me but after a few seconds, she clears her throat. “Uchiha-san... do you know why you are here?” at that, she goes back to throwing a massive pity party on my behalf as she sits down next to where I stand and looks at me with too warm eyes.

“Hn” I grunt, “My brother murdered my family, right? Then he trapped me in a genjutsu, that asshole.” A low grumble ends up coming out of my mouth at the last notion. Yes, while I actually appreciate being handed a new destiny, I think of the little boy who’s now in shards with more than half of him unable to move on from the trauma Itachi’s caused.

The woman, probably a nurse, stares at me in shock. Nevertheless, she nods. “You will be questioned as soon as possible. Yamanaka Inoichi-san from T&I will come in a couple of hours. Are you hungry?”

I confirm my hunger although that’s maybe not such a good idea. Hospital food is generally pretty shitty. Now that I’m in the Naruto universe, I want to at least once experience Ichiraku’s ramen for myself. “Ah” a small voice inside me sighs, “I wonder if I even have the money for that.” True, I guess. I’m an orphan and I don’t think the Hokage will allow an Academy student to have his full inheritance yet.

The woman, who doesn’t even give me her name, vanishes behind the white door again to bring me my meal. I sit down on the bed after stretching my legs and groan softly. What the hell am I supposed to do? Should I interfere with the story line? Well, yes, of course – I have no other choice, quite frankly. I don’t hold a _real_ grudge against Sasuke’s... my... brother. He might have killed my family but he sure as hell didn’t know about the drastic side effect of his jutsu. Otherwise he’d have just sedated me or something.

That’s all so fucking complicated. What am I supposed to do? Should I tell somebody? But what if things are different here? I wasn’t a part of the original story and every tad bit I change will, in fact, make the whole thing different.

I should tell Kakashi, at least, and Nara Shikaku. Both of them are very trusty people and the latter is the jonin commander and non-arguably the smartest one here. If anybody knows the consequences of me knowing something I shouldn’t, it’s him. Also, I don’t think the two will disregard or do something drastic to me. As nice as the Third is to Naruto, he’s too old and puts too much trust into Danzo that it would be suicidal for me to even consider giving him information.

And Kakashi is my favourite character. Come on, I want to have him know that Obito’s the asshole and not him... pull a bit of guilt away and such. It’ll be easier to have him as a sensei as well when he knows that it’s important to actually train us. Sakura and Naruto can be _really_ useful this time.

A tray is brought to my bedside table and the food doesn’t look half bad; just some onigiri, a slice of chocolate cake and apple juice. I dig in, still immersed in my thought process.

Okay. Tell two people and make sure nobody else knows about it. I can do that.

Now onto other matters. How should I act? Like an Uchiha – aloof, cold, dark, slightly twisted, no humour? I snort. Yeah, sure. As if I could pull up an act for however long I’ll live here. I’m not my brother. The last Uchiha will be not how everyone expects him to be, then.

I’m already showing my true colours because I’m sitting cross-legged, utterly slumped over and fiddling the hem of my t-shirt between my fingers. How delicate they are. I’m going to go through the clan compound and see whatever I can scavenge there... perhaps some nail polish?

The food is gone in mere minutes and then I’m left without anything to do. I look around and my gaze meets a stack of papers and some pencils. Huh, conveniently placed. Yamanaka-san is a shinobi and could have come at any given moment – nobody would be as important as the last Uchiha at this moment. So why does he need a couple of hours to come by? And why should there be pencils and paper without any apparent reason other than... to assess my mental state? Of course I could draw nothing which would mean I’m enclosed in my mind. Or I could draw something dark which would mean I’m taking the massacre badly. One of those two options is what the original Sasuke has done.

I, however, just grab the tools and draw two of my male characters (from the manga I could never finish, damn it!) kissing. After shading them, I want to test my abilities to draw animals and so, on another paper, a tiger and a cutesy snail are coming to life. God, I love snails. Best animals ever.

And then I literally go crazy and draw a big tarantula with high heels, a shiny butt and big fucking eyelashes that sits on top of a drag queen’s head.

I wonder what Inoichi-san will think of that.

He’s still not here. I start writing a story about a girl whose hands make flowers bloom. She meets a boy who makes plants rot and they fall in love with each other. In the end, it’s the girl who ends the relationship because her love had been just as flowers – blooming bright and beautiful but drying up and dying fast when she saw another opportunity – while the boy, as pessimistic but appreciating as he was of life, cherished her so much that he did anything to keep her heart. It wasn’t enough and thus, she went away, leaving behind the boy who felt broken and battered. Many years later, he finds a new lover, a woman whose hands make plants rot just as his and it turns out that this woman is the same girl from before but when her hands turned life to death, she started seeing why she should have nurtured her love more and regretted breaking his heart for another man whose hands could make wealth but never made her feel wealthy at all.

It’s nice writing like this. I always did it when I felt inspired in my first life.

The door finally opens and a blond haired man with pale blue eyes steps in. He looks badass in real life. “You must be Yamanaka-san, right?” I ask him, nodding once in greeting. The man smiles warmly at me when he spots the now filled papers, takes the chair where normally a visitor would sit on and places it directly in front of me.

“Yes, that’s me. Uchiha Sasuke, I presume?”

“’xactly.”

His smile doesn’t diminish, if anything, it grows wider. Inoichi-san points to the small staple and asks if he can look at it. Oh, I actually didn’t drag that out of my ass... . Psh, as if! (I actually thought my theory was just that but alright.)

The blond raises his eyebrows at my kissing boys. “Who are they?” he asks.

Naturally, I go into full detail: “The black-haired one is Makao and he’s twenty-three, a dedicated young writer who searches for a muse and the pierced one is Natsu who lives on the street because he hasn’t made it as a musician but he doesn’t give up his dream. He’s twenty-seven.” Yamanka-san seems intrigued.

“And they are a couple?” he murmurs questioningly.

“At first it’s just a one night stand because Natsu hasn’t eaten, showered or slept in a bed in ages but then it actually evolves into a hesitant relationship over time. Makao showers Natsu with gifts which makes him quite a bit embarrassed and self-loathe because he hasn’t achieved much in his life yet and relies on Makao.” I tell him and relish in the wide-eyed baffled expression on his face. His daughter is my age and all she ever tells him involves probably child stuff.

“Oh! That’s... that’s something else. Do you want to write stories when you’re older? Or draw them? I mean this is quite fantastic, honestly.”

I blush a bit because I’ve never been good with praise but agree: “I want to do both someday. Don’t think that my drawings are good enough right now but with some practise, I think I can manage.”

He looks through my other stuff and reads the story. “Damn. That was deep.”

“I like deeper things – hidden meanings and such. That’s my kinda shit.”

“I see that. So... I wanted to talk to you about what your brother?” he looks at me in askance as if he’s not sure whether he can still call Itachi that or not. When I don’t give a sign of repulsion, he continues: “...what your brother has done. Can you tell me what you remember?”

Oh boy, here it goes. I breathe in and out before starting: “Well, I came home. It was normal, just as it usually is but quieter. As if the whole compound was deserted. And... it kind of was. Only I didn’t know at the time.” Yamanaka-san’s face is grim when I have to stutter a bit at the end of the sentence, “I can’t really remember everything because it all went so fast. I just see mom and dad... lying there in their blood. And then there he was, my brother. He... h-he...”

It doesn’t even make any sense that my eyes are getting wet. It wasn’t my family, not really. However, a small part of me is Sasuke and this part has my throat in a chokehold.

“Take your time, Sasuke-kun. We can make a pause, alright?”

“No, it’s... it’s fine.” It’s not but I’ve never been one to have my feeling all out in the open, “Eventually, he trapped me in a genjutsu where I saw how he... did it. Over and over again. Whatever he used, it was so overpowered that, well, a couple of hours felt like _years_. So many years seeing my parents and my clan die. Again and again and again... and then, when I allowed myself to feel relief as soon as the vision ended, it begun again.” I break off in a whisper, barely acting at all. It had been disturbing and I don’t think the original Sasuke saw what I did. For him, it was a couple of days... for me, it had been literal years. I have lived in that vision for so long that along the line, I had sometimes forgotten that it wasn’t real. Several times I had tried breaking out with my rusty Naruto knowledge of “Kai”. Obviously I couldn’t shape chakra and after the first year, when I thought I had slowly grasped the concept, the genjutsu ensured that I _couldn’t_ break free.

The small terrified boy had been there for six months when I came into play, taking over his conscience. Death has taught me how to endure but it hadn’t prepared me for this. Nothing could have. I’m glad I was able to ignore the bodies after a few days.

All in all, the experience made me want to dive into genjutsu. I’m not going to kill Itachi... just, you know, maybe trap him a decade or so longer inside the Tsukuyomi and force him to feel what his little brother felt. And what it’s like to be dead for as long as I had been. That would do.

“He trapped you in a genjutsu which made you experience the death of your clan members for years?!” Yamanaka-san’s voice is rough and thoroughly shocked.

“Yes.”

His mouth’s slightly agape when I look up with blank black eyes. The man cleans his throat. “How... how are you faring with the situation? It has to be disturbing to be back all of a sudden after such a long time.”

I tilt my head, a few stray hair strands veiling my vision. “It was” I answer truthfully, “My head had to catch up with all of the newly gained material. As I said – _years_ of gained material. I could even walk around in the genjutsu and pick up some reading material or clan scrolls to make myself useful. In my mind I’m probably around twenty for all I know.”

Maybe the Tsukuyomi has trapped me until my own mental age matched Sasuke’s if he’d been alone. It doesn’t make much sense but I guess a foreign soul can fuck things up royally.

“That explains the maturity and the imagination.” Inoichi-san mutters to himself. He has nevertheless intended for me to hear it.

I nod in affirmation. “The imagination has only been expanded. For the maturity... I’m feeling like I’ve hopped straight from childhood to adulthood without any teenage years in between. Ah, well, perhaps this isn’t too bad. Just think what fucked up avenger I would have been if Itachi’s genjutsu hadn’t made me stay for so long.” Making the best of it, right?

“Are you grateful?” he asks interested.

“Fuck no.” I snort and smirk bitterly, “I would rather skin Itachi alive than relive this fucked up mess. I’m just saying it’s better in the long run. Although that wasn’t what he wanted to achieve if going by his _loving_ parting words. _Sasuke, become strong enough to kill me_. What a shit show. He can kill himself but by god, I won’t let him drag me into his suicidal wishes. I’m sure as hell not going to go after him.” That’s true as well – I will just wait for him to come to me when the time’s right.

Inoichi-san smiles faintly at me and says: “I’m glad to hear that, Sasuke-kun. Some people feel drawn to their tormentors in a very wrong way.” Stockholm Syndrome, I think to myself. The only kind of love Itachi will be getting from me before having himself reformed is a fist to his stoic ass face; tough love.

“Yamanaka-san? Will I be able to attend the Academy soon? I’d rather not sit around in the compound for too long.”

He winces slightly. “Of course, Sasuke-kun. Today’s Saturday and if you’re up to it you can start on Monday. You could also apply for an apartment if you can’t go back there. I’d understand it if you did.”

I sigh deeply and reply: “Maybe. First of all I have to see how much of a PTSD flashback I get when being faced with the compound.”

“I understand. That will be all. Recover well, Sasuke-kun.” Yamanaka-san tells me seriously.

“You too, Yamanaka-san.”

He looks puzzled for a moment before I point to his left leg which he’s been dragging quite painfully behind him. It’s a new injury judging by the way how his face distorts the tiniest bit when he uses it.

The blond seems bewildered but then he just throws his head back and laughs heartily. “Will do, brat.”

°°°

Luckily, the compound doesn’t give me anything at all besides the creeps. However, that’s just because it’s empty and eerie. Nothing one couldn’t make better with some decorations and DIY projects. I’m physically eight which means I have more than enough time to drastically change this place of sorrow into something wicked.

My feet automatically carry me to a familiar house – Sasuke’s, mine. Damn, it’s beautifully traditional. I eye it with appreciation. For an outsider it would look as if I’m unsure whether to go in or not. Eventually, I pull out my keys and welcome myself into my residence.

Everything is the same as in the genjutsu only brighter and less intimidating. I head towards the kitchen first and pick up a tomato from the counter. Sasuke and my former self both enjoyed raw tomatoes and thus, so do I.

I miss the music from my former life. I’m not sure if there’s something like a radio here. Sasuke hasn’t any explicit memories with technology that I could recall.

After my quick snack, I begin searching every crevice of the house for things I can put to use in the future. I don’t avoid Itachi’s room and find a cute photography of him and me on a swing. Okay, cameras exist at least. Some would rip it but I plan on hanging it on a wall.

I also find a volume of Icha Icha and a well-used copy of Yaoi Tengoku... he’s thirteen and I started earlier than that in my other life with sexual content. Both of these books discretely wander into the bag I brought with me.  
Not only is it good blackmail material (just imagine me going “Oh, by the way, I found your secret porn stash.” in the middle of a fight) but I have missed my gay literature. Also, reading Icha Icha is one of the things I’ve been _craving_ to do ever since I realized that this, indeed, is the Naruto universe.

His clothes are just as shitty as mine. Who the fuck has such a wide, gigantic collar?! I’ll have to break into the old Uchiha clan store and if they only wore such atrocious pieces, I’m going shopping.

There’s a necklace in one of his desk’s drawers. It’s really ugly. What the fuck, Itachi? Apparently, his hair is sick but the rest is shit.

That’s it with Itachi’s possessions. Either the boy has seriously had nothing else (what a sad thought) or he’s packed before deciding to murder our clan.  
Next up, I raid Fugaku’s study. Clan politics, letters of complaint, an old banana peel... ew, didn’t the ANBU clean the whole house?!... a squishy and nice bureau chair I’ll kidnap and use, _three_ other Icha Icha volumes (were the Uchiha all secret erotica lovers?), his wedding ring and a shelf full of books on various topics. There’s too much stuff to relocate so I’ll just have to come to the study more often in the future.

I’d rather not go into detail what I found in my parents’ bedroom. They were a happy married couple with healthy sexual desires, apparently.

That’s it for _my_ house. Hey, I know it sounds morbid to go on a thief trip through recently demised people’s belongings but I actually can tell you that the souls of the dead most of the time don’t give a damn about their stuff. There’s only been one occurrence with a really greedy bastard soul who refused to give up his collection of old and prestigious swords.

I kicked his ass to the afterlife and beyond.

Anyways, back to work.

Four hours later, I practically drown in various goods. Now I’m wearing a black hoodie with uchiwa on the back and two uzu-spirals on the sleeves. It reminds me of what Naruto wears only the collar isn’t extravagant and it actually has a hood. My pants are black too; they’re reminiscent of leggings but with... necessary crotch space. Oh, the colour of my new shinobi sandals is also _very surprising_ aka black just as everything else. Whatever I didn’t mention is black as well.

I kinda look like a baby vampire with my painted fingernails and kohl (this is the expensive ninja stuff that is as hard to get off as a tattoo) edged eyes. I’m a fashion icon in the making, I tell you.  
I could also pass as a weird Orochimaru/Uchiha hybrid which hadn’t been my intention but ah... I can’t get the kohl off and now I sport this odd snake-like look.

Slowly cooking a simple potato stew, I contemplate on what to do with smol tiny Naruto and Sakura. The girl has a huge crush on me should the change in style and personality not stop her and the blond jinchuuriki can admittedly grate on one’s nerves. Ah, they’ll be fine without me if I can’t get one or both of them to form a friendship with me.

Huh, I actually want to have some friends, though. Hinata seems like the most obvious choice because she is nice and rather quiet. From what I’ve read in my first life, she also likes pressing flowers and that’s just another form of art. Art... Sai? I don’t know where I’d find him to be honest. Perhaps I’ll stumble upon him sooner or later.

I really shouldn’t assume things – I don’t actually know how people are in reality opposed to in the fictional equivalent of this universe I’m used to. 

The stew is good. If I can’t make it as a ninja, I should open up a restaurant. Or I can continue drawing. Or I can write perverse stories (I mean Icha Icha sells quite a copious amount of copies from what I’ve gathered). Or I can be Orochimaru’s new body... which would be a dream career, obviously. Who wouldn’t want to be used as a living costume?

I spend the rest of my weekend cuddled up on the couch with the four volumes of Icha Icha and the single Yaoi Tengoku one. Jiraiya’s writing is surprisingly incredible and if somebody claims they read the series just for the three to four steamy scenes per book, they’re filthy liars. Yaoi Tengoku, however, is written by a... complicated person. They jump between ridiculous over-exaggeration and utter simplification and it’s not surprising that the series wasn’t mentioned in the Naruto manga. It’s not bad but I’ve read better books. And fanfictions.

Monday morning has me blinking terribly tired. It’s been decades since I went to school and waking up at six in the morning after having read until two AM gives me a sense of nostalgia. Brushing my teeth, eating a quick breakfast, getting dressed, packing my supplies... it’s incredibly mundane but I’m stoked.

Academy, here I come!

With a red rucksack slung over my back, I hurry down the streets of Konoha to where the Academy is located (with the help of Sasuke’s memories I can spot it quickly). Running in this body is so much easier than in my old one and I think I’m finally getting what kind of freedom you can gain by letting your feet carry you around like that.

I look up to the clock on the hallway’s wall. Twenty minutes to spare until class starts. My hand reaches out to the door and drags it open. All of a sudden, the loud chatter from before stills when around twenty pairs of eyes stare at me.

“Yo!” I greet them with the exact same tone and hand gesture I used with the nurse.

They stare even harder.

Then there are two blurs of colour, one purple and the other red, and I’m successfully tackled to the ground. “Sasuke-kun!” cries a pink haired girl who hugs my right side tightly.

“Sasuke-kun!” another girl cries just as horrendously loud as the previous one. This time, she’s blonde and doesn’t let go of my left side. I don’t even struggle because I’m, like, so overwhelmed that I can only groan as the pain in my coccyx registers. Goddamn, are they secret taijutsu specialists?

“Could you...” I rasp out, a little bit breathless, “please let me go?”

They immediately do so and apologize profoundly when I stagger back to a stand while rubbing my back with a grimace.

“Shit, I hope you didn’t break anything. What _was_ that and _why_ did you do it?” I intone in a “I’m so done with this shit already” voice.

“Sorry, Sasuke-kun!” Sakura says shyly, “I was just so worried when I heard what happened... to...” She drops her gaze and Ino steps in: “Sakura-pig means that we were worried about you because of the massacre.”

Everybody looks at me expectantly. What they expect I can only guess but I don’t think I meet their expectations at all when I ruffle their hair and state: “Thanks for worrying. But please don’t jump on me again. That hurts like a bitch.” I apparently send them squealing in joy.

Ah, they’re cute... not cute in a “I wanna date them” way but in an “Aw, look at those smol people being smol” way.  
Luckily, they give me space and I can finally assess the rest of the class. My eyes linger on an orange clad kid who sits alone in the middle and pouts. The two rows behind him are already filled so I just slide right next to him.

“What do you want, teme?!” he grumbles.

“Sit here...? And maybe draw a bit.” I say matter-of-factly. Naruto’s eyes widen when I don’t include an insult.

“Draw?” he asks, eyeing the piece of blank paper and a pencil I retrieve from my backpack as if it’s the most unusual thing to ever happen. Were Uchiha that stuck up in public? They sure as hell weren’t in their own homes. I have scavenged instruments, record players (I was so fucking delighted when I could listen to music again), a huge amount of vinyl records, drawing paper, watercolours, make up, books, scrolls and weird gadgets from the emptied houses. Maybe they just liked to play all high and mighty when there were people around.

I have neither the time nor the patience for such an act. Thus, I’m drawing.

“Yes. Do you want me to draw something specific?”

Naruto gapes at me as if I’m the Sage of Six Paths reincarnated but furiously nods after a couple of seconds. “Draw ramen! And a frog!” A ramen eating frog it is. He watches me closely and delightedly when the shape of the frog with a bowl in his hand gets clearer each time the pencil scratches over the paper.

“That’s so cool!” he gushes when I gift him the sketch. I blush lightly at the praise, though.

“Thanks, Naruto-kun.”

The blond haired boy lets out a shocked breath. He asks quietly: “Naruto... kun? Ne, ne, tem... Sasuke-kun?”

“Huh?”

“You wanna... I don’t know... hangoutsometimeImean?” Naruto stutters and afterwards clenches his teeth and shuts his eyes. He waits to be rejected, I muse and my heart breaks a bit.

“Sure, why not? After school at my place?”

The enthusiastic nod I get makes me want to coo. What a sweetheart.

“Eh, Sasuke-kun, will your parents be cool with that?” he questions innocently.

Gasps ensue. “Ah, well...” I scratch the back of my head sheepishly, “I guess they’re always cool now that they’re dead.”  
Ah, oops, normal children don’t joke about that... especially not literally only two days after the incident. 

“What I meant to say is yes, you can come over.”

Naruto is just as adorable as Ino and Sakura and throws himself at me (insert a flashback of the weird ass Naruto cannon of Naruto Ultimate Ninja Storm). I ruffle his hair because I’m equally obnoxious to girls _and_ boys.

A weird sensei who isn’t Iruka comes in two minutes after the bell rings. Some part of me says that this is a normal occurrence so I don’t even bat an eye.

“Today” the sensei says, not quite managing to catch anybody’s attention at all, “we’re going to talk about the great clans of Konoha.” The moron flips me a sly glance with upturned mouth corners in a mock imitation of a smile.

Wow, if original Sasuke had to deal with this kind of thing I’m not surprised he turned out to be a depressed and psychotic loner.

“Who can tell me three great clans of our village? Hm... what about you, Uchiha- _san_?”

Asshole. I can play this game too.

“Sure, _sensei_ ” my voice is as dry as Suna’s desert, “What about Inuzuka, Aburame and... well, I guess I can’t name Uchiha anymore, can I? That would be just narcissistic of me. I’m going with Akimichi as my third answer.”  
For a heartbeat there’s only silence.

Then I hear somebody snorting behind me and the spell is broken. Sensei huffs indignantly but barks out a bitter and nearly incoherent “True” before asking the same question to Naruto who begins to fidget in his seat. His head grows red and I can’t help the surge of protectiveness in my chest.

On a small slip of paper, I write “Ino – Shika – Hinata” as fast as possible and slip it to him.

“What did you say, Naruto- _kun_? I didn’t quite understand you.” the sensei taunts with an unholy sneer. I know that he’s only still in the Academy because he’s distantly related to some council member. Sasuke had picked up on the rumour that he shouldn’t even have been promoted to chunin (it was a field promotion on a mission to tea country without any apparent dangers).

The boy next to me is interestingly just as stealthy as I am and says in a thoughtful tone: “Yamanaka? And... Nara. Oh, and Hyuuga, believe it!” I’m impressed and proud that he instantly caught on. He has definitely potential to become someone you don’t wanna mess with.

Sensei’s facade crumbles and he begins _hissing_ like a hybrid between snake and tea kettle. I then and there decide to ignore him until he gets off his childish temper tantrum and go back to drawing. About five minutes later, when the sensei is still ranting, I hear a whisper: “Thank you. Could I have some paper too?”

“No problem. Yeah, there you go.” I answer, discreetly shoving three loose pieces of paper to my bestie who sends me a blinding foxy smile that’s brighter than the sun outside.  
He draws a cat with a t-shirt. On the t-shirt is an uchiwa. The picture doesn’t look half bad and maybe, just maybe, I’m grinning like a loon with a few stray emotional tears escaping here and there.

I can’t wait to meet up with Naruto after school. 


	2. Chapter 2

Naruto has been staying at the compound for practically five days straight. At first I didn’t even notice that there’s a pattern in his visits but it becomes pretty clear after he fiddles his fingers in shame and his stomach grumbles for the approximately sixth time since I’ve met him.

I’m hungry as well so I begin gathering ingredients for a simple yet filling meal for the two of us. Naruto’s a bit hopeless in the kitchen – that’s why he sheepishly watches me preparing vegetables from his spot at the table.

“I’m sorry.” he suddenly says and I turn around to look at him in bewilderment.

“Huh?”

“I feel so bad for always eating at your place... but you cook so well and I wanna spend time with you. I know you prolly have other friends and I’m stealing your time. Sorry ‘bout that. You can say it if you want me gone, you know that, right?” He gives me one of his “I’m really pained inside but I have to keep on smiling because otherwise I’d be crying” grins and I frown.

“Huh?!” is the only thing that comes out of my mouth. I mean, I knew Naruto had been feeling guilty for something – he’s obvious as an eight year old just is - but I didn’t think it was due to self-worth issues.

“You’re great, Sasuke-kun” he says, “and I’m not. I don’t want you to get the same stares I do just ‘cause you’re my friend. And I can’t even help you with anything ‘cause you’re hundreds of times better than me at _everything_.”

The small boy draws his legs up and tucks his knees under his chin. There’s a blush forming on his whiskered cheeks when I don’t immediately answer. His eyes are averted as well, fixed on the fruit basket in the middle of the table.

“I don’t mind you being here and I don’t mind people staring at us. To be honest, they’d stare either way because they think I’m a ticking time bomb waiting to go off at any minute.” I tell him earnestly, giving him a small smile.

“R-Really? You really don’t mind?” Naruto sends me a hopeful look. His eyes are bluer than any I’ve ever seen before.

“Yeah. It’s always me who asks you to join me after school, isn’t it?” That’s true. Ever since I became Naruto’s friend, I want him to be near me at all possible times. I’ve always been someone who clutches to the few people I have. Naruto’s funny, honest, a bit of an idiot and the cheekiest little shit when it comes to board or card games (I lose more often than I win and that’s pretty humiliating considering our mental age gap).

Liking Naruto isn’t hard.

“Guess it is. Ne, Sasuke-kun?” his face scrunches up, “What do ya mean with time bomb?”

“Maa” I absent-mindedly put the cut vegetables in a pot and let it simmer, “My brother’s a genius and had been well-liked by the village. Yet... he killed my clan and seemingly betrayed Konoha. I hope I’m not as good as him when it comes to shinobi business because right now, they all are already thinking I could turn out like Itachi. However, there’s no Uchiha clan anymore. They fear for their safety because of that – they think they’re the next best thing to a clan. Essentially, they think I could come for their hides.”

Naruto makes a choking noise and cries: “They think you’ll kill them?!”

“Yep. No wonder there. I’m _reeeally_ dAnGeRoUs!” I swing my kitchen knife around in a ridiculous manner and my best friend laughs. My laugh – _my laugh, the wickedly embarrassing one that my ex-boyfriend found so annoying_ – comes out before I can stop it.   
Naruto then laughs at my laugh and we send each other into another gasping laughter contest. It ends with me pissing myself because I’m laughing so hard and even then, I hardly stop. I can flee to the bathroom before the floor gets wet and the blond jinchuuriki has to watch our meal-in-the-making.

“Damn, Sasuke, I don’t have a fucking clue how I should handle that.” Naruto calls, frantically stirring the food in the pot.

I answer him with a hysterical laugh from the toilet.

“Argh!” There are hissing sounds. My eyes widen and I run to my helpless friend who still stirs and doesn’t turn off the heat. Only after I grab the pot, pull it off the stove and fumble the button to zero, I notice that I’m practically naked down there.

He looks into my eyes. For a split second none of us do something. However, the quietness doesn’t last long because Naruto glances down and looks up quickly after realizing my spontaneous nudity. His mouth corners twitch just like mine and that’s it. We begin laughing like maniacs – of course I pull a hand in front of my junk but the situation isn’t getting any less absurd.

A bit of cleaning, a dive to my closet for new boxer briefs (it’s my house, I’m allowed to be a slacker here and Naruto doesn’t mind) and an inspection of the slightly burnt food later, we finally eat.   
My table manners are nonexistent and Naruto’s... are less than that. He slurps, grunts, shoves the food down his throat and takes large gulps of the cola I bought yesterday. Yes, colour me surprised at the fact that cola is something that exists here.

“Try to eat a bit slower or you’re gonna throw up like two days ago.” I point out with my own mouth full. He pouts but complies, clearly shuddering at the memory of the chicken spluttering everywhere. We had to clean like two hours before the walls weren’t disgustingly coated in sickly yellow anymore.

To be honest, we’re both kind of terribly awful at not being disgusting. My unwashed clothes aren’t the only ones on the floor nowadays. God, we really need to figure out the washing machine one of these days.   
Partially, I blame the idiots who let two eight year olds live alone. Internally, I face-palm because I _should_ know how to do something like that. I was nineteen when I died, after all.

Guess I was too busy being stuck in years-long depression back then.

“Wanna go shopping today? We kinda need groceries and I wanna see if there are ninja shoes that aren’t sandals.” Here’s the thing: I’m uncomfortable. I don’t know how others don’t have to constantly shake out the dirt and dust that collects inside the standard shinobi sandals (chakra trick? No idea!) but I have to do so. And it’s inconvenient. What if I accidentally step into a thorn bush? My poor toes would be shredded awfully.

The Uchiha were so traditional that just my hoodie alone was incredibly hard to find. I think the most unconventional Uchiha outfit had been Obito’s and even that hadn’t been available to me. Not that I especially would have liked to wear something like that. I don’t want to give good old ‘Kashi painful flashbacks.

So, no, there hadn’t been any non-sandaled shoes in the compound.

And if there had been and I missed them, I don’t think they would have fit me.

Naruto raises his eyebrows. “Shopping? With me? That’s a shitty idea.”

“Because of the staring, huh?” I muse and get a nod back. “Well. Would’ya like to become a different person for as long as our cover isn’t blown? I wouldn’t wanna be stared at either.”

He stares at me in awe. Suddenly, a mischievous glint burns inside his eyes and we grin unanimously when I tell him the following: “There have been Uchiha who have dyed their hair.”

“Sasuke-kun, Sa-kun, Sas-key, Sasu-chan, my best man. We’re going to be unreco... whassit?”

“Unrecognizable?”

“Just that.” He grins deviously.

I think I have created a monster.

°°°

“C’mon, Kumo! Don’t be so lame.” Kujira, a boy with black hair, mesmerizing blue eyes and never before seen black clan markings (that kohl eyeliner is pretty useful), pats my shoulder. I sigh. Why is my best friend a bundle of energy? Couldn’t he be... a tiny bit more subdued?

Ah, maybe I’m just too lazy to be a convincing child.

“Just remember not to perk up when somebody uses your real name, ‘kay?” I remind him and he smirks with a hint of bitterness.

“Do you mean “demon” or “Naruto”?”

I snort and answer sarcastically: “Demon, of course. Best name ever.”

Naruto, disguised as Kujira, childishly sticks out his tongue at me to which I dramatically clutch my heart in offence. He rolls his eyes, clearly done with my shit, and drags me towards the shinobi section of the market.   
Of course nobody recognizes us. It’s hard to do so when I now sport platinum blond streaks in my wild mane and without an uchiwa in sight. There were some Uchiha who couldn’t fulfil the whole Grand Fireball Technique thingy and we use their clothes. Admittedly, Naruto looks like a cute girl because he’s wearing a t-shirt that’s at least three sizes too big and serves as a dress.

I have extended my eyeliner and wear a pair of non-prescription glasses. (It’s disturbing that there had been Uchiha hipsters but I’m not one to judge.)

The shopkeepers sometimes coo at us but that’s all we get. Naruto’s whiskers are hidden by the drawn on markings and for once, nobody seems to mind him. I pretend not to notice his trembling hands and just walk side-by-side with him to the shoe shop.

It’s a small establishment on the right side of the street, located between a weaponry shop and a bookstore. I have to sneeze as soon as I inhale the musty air – the scent of it being a mixture of leather, plastic, old sunny days and yellowed paper.

A man sits at the counter, flipping bored through an Icha Icha volume I have at home. Icha Icha Bird of Paradise is a collection of short stories written between Paradise and Violence and I have to say the third one’s my favourite.

I clear my throat politely.

He doesn’t move.

Naruto – Kujira – wants to say something undoubtedly rude so I slap my palm over his mouth.

“Sir? I know Momo and the rest are all great characters and their stories are quite gripping but I wanted to ask you about something.” I state politely. Finally he looks up, scrutinizing my very being and curtly nods once to signalize I have the permission to ask.

“Do you, by any chance, sell normal shoes for ninja? Like... no sandals... maybe?”

“Size.” he whispers. It takes a moment until I understand him but when I do, I hastily say: “38, Sir.”

He grunts, stands up and beckons us to follow. Don’t follow strangers to the back of their shop, kids. However, I need my shoes and Naruto and I could probably beat him up. Probably. Hopefully. Why am I so nervous about this? Naruto also throws me an unsure glance and he’s more of a jackass than I am. Wow, okay. I just shrug and continue hurrying after the man.

Luckily, he is neither a child trafficker nor somebody who enjoys adult time with young minors. Instead, he’s my favourite person in the whole world right now.

Howdy, how nice all of these shoes look! So sturdy, so comfortable, so... very fucking pricy.

“You sure you can even pay for them?” Naruto mumbles quietly to me.

I let my fingers dance over the smooth surface of a black pair of light boots with mesh material on some parts to let air through and grin. “Eh” I say, “You don’t mind going hungry for a couple of weeks, do ya?”

“Kumo!”

“Just kidding. I can pay for ‘em. Have to try on a couple of pairs to see which ones are best suited for me, though.”

Naruto groans, whining: “That’s the reason why we’re going shoe shopping first, isn’t it? I should have stayed at home...”

“Don’t fret, darling. I only have three favs.”

The shopkeeper doesn’t pay us any attention. He, just like Kakashi, reads his Icha Icha while awkwardly standing in the middle of the round storage room. I wonder how many people actively buy their shoes here. The shop seems kind of settled – pretty old from what I’ve seen. Maybe the shinobi who shop here are so used to autonomy that they go through the shelves and if they find a pair they want, they buy them. If they don’t, they probably don’t even think about asking the man behind the desk.

That’s how ninja are in my opinion – stealthy, autonomous and absolutely proud. Too proud to count on somebody helping them.

What if... what if more people than me want closed shoes but they’d be too wounded in their shinobi honour if they had to ask a pervy old man? Never mind that the man in question has been selling shoes for all his life.

God, I should stop interpreting so much into my surroundings. While Kakashi always demands people to look underneath the underneath, I think I tend to vanish into the underneath of underneath’s underneath.

Now I think about this stupid Shrek scene in which Donkey compares Shrek to an onion. I’ll just stop thinking for a while.

Oooh! I have found my feet’s destiny. Black, sleek, not really thick but nonetheless sturdy as fuck. I will wear these until they fall apart. Well, yes, I better do. 1700 Ryo... that’s like 120 Euro if the weird Wiki articles I’ve read decades ago are true.

My purchase doesn’t put a dent into my budget (I literally get 8000 from my dead relatives per month until I finish my education and achieve full access to the bank account) but I have always been a cheapskate when it comes to clothes.

“’s that it? 1500 then.” the man calmly says when we’re at the cashier desk.

I’m puzzled. “Huh? But...?”

“Take the discount ‘cause you can appreciate good literature.” he grunts and gives me a crooked smile that would send shivers down anybody’s spine.

“Thanks!” I put the money on the counter before Naruto grabs my arm and throws me out of the shop.

“What the hell?” he asks me with a “the fuck was this?!” gesture.

“Huh...?” I have made this sound too often in the last few days. Well, I distinctly remember a time when I’ve used the exact same sound in another language’s variation as a running gag. Perhaps the real puzzlement is my punishment for having used it so often in my other life.

Naruto frowns at me. “I lived with whores next door. I know when an old perv is flirting with somebody ‘cause I’ve seen it happen daily. The creep was tryin’ to hook you up!” he says slowly.

“Trying to hook _me_ up?” I point at my face to make sure he’s truly meaning what I’ve understood, “Moi? Mich?” there are even spilling out the several languages I know because I just can’t comprehend it. “I’m eight, Naruto. And I know there are people who’re fucked up and wanna have children that way. But me?! You gotta be kidding me. I’m fucking ugly.”

I’ve always been considered ugly physically. It’s been an advantage for as long as I can think of – nobody wants me for a one night stand but also nobody would try to fuck with me because I look like a...

...fuck.

How the hell did I forget that I look like _Sasuke_? That I am _the_ Uchiha Sasuke who’s being hailed as a saint by tons of prepubescent females only due to his looks? I even thought about that before! Why did I literally forget?

Naruto raises his eyebrows and says: “Sure, Sas... Kumo. Sure you are. It’s not as if every girl in our class stalks you, nooo.” The sarcasm is thicc.

“Eh...” I sheepishly scratch my scalp, “I didn’t think I’d be attractive with all that paint on my face?” Partially true. I had adopted a dark gothic look in my past life to keep strangers away from me. And to look cool. Subconsciously, I have connected the feeling of wearing black make-up with feeling like good old _Old Me_ and Old Me had been terrifying.

“You don’t look any worse.” Naruto dead-pans.

I shrug, sit down on a bench and try not to think about an old geezer flirting with smol Sasuke. Ew. Naruto falls down next to me and accepts my old shoes gratefully. I promised him he could keep them if I found what I’ve been searching for.

Of course I have brought socks with me in case I really stumble upon boots.

“I can’t believe I now own sandals that actually fit.” my best friend awes, wiggling his toes experimentally. I’m going to fucking shower him in gifts when his birthday comes around – there’s no way my best friend is having the time of his life just because I give him my sweaty sandals.

I clear my throat. “Wanna head for groceries?”

Naruto agrees.

°°°

“Sas...?!”

For years to come I will always laugh at the sheer shock in Shikamaru’s face when I all of a sudden hug him rather tightly (emphasis on tight) in order to prevent my cover being blown.   
His arms flail in the air before they try to gently pry me off.

I hear a soft giggle and give Chouji an eye-blinding smile that could have belonged to Maito Gai.

After a few seconds of Shikamaru dangling awkwardly in my grip, I let go and tell him enthusiastically: “Shika, my man! Kujira here and I have been shopping. Like my new shoes?” To his credit, the Nara instantly picks up on the codename and Chouji isn’t far behind.

Naruto nervously plays with the hem of his oversized tee. While the two guys haven’t discriminated him yet, I presume my best friend isn’t sure whether that’s going to be the case in the future or not.  
Shikamaru looks at my shoes and hums in thought. “They are nice. Where did you get them?”

“From this place next to the bookshop. I even got a discount –“

“Yeah, because the old geezer wanted Kumo’s ass.” Naruto huffs and I see Shikamaru biting down a frown. Chouji isn’t as discrete and lets out a questioning noise.

I pout. “You don’t know if he really flirted with me or not. Could have just been a nice man who wanted to gift a fellow Icha Icha fan?” At Naruto’s disbelieving look I relent, “Ah, alright. The smile afterwards made me want to peel my skin off.”

“Y-You should be more careful, K-Kumo-kun.” the sweetheart called Akimichi Chouji stutters shyly.

I can’t hold the coo in: “Aw, don’t be worried about me. If shit hits the fan, I’ll have a watchwhale at my side.” Naruto hits the back of my head lightly and says: “Yeah, sure. As if you need it.”

Well, he does have a point. You know that Naruto picked up a brawler style of taijutsu in the manga? In this universe, he hasn’t reached that point yet and falls more often than not on his nose when he tries to copy the Academy taijutsu stances Sasuke’s (my?) father drilled into the boy’s mind before he was killed.

I’m better off defending myself for the time being, as cruel as it sounds.

But I won’t let Naruto do this “haha, I’m falling into my pit filled with acidic self-loath” thing again. “ _You_ ’re going to be Hokage someday. You’ll have to protect the whole fucking” Shikamaru covers Chouji’s ears, “village. Better start small and work your way upwards, right?”

Naturo’s determination causes him to instantly yell: “Course I’ll protect you!”

“See?”  I ask Chouji who snorts amusedly.

“Anyways, wanna eat dinner with us at my place?” Where did that come from? Am I really inviting more children into my mansion? Ah, fuck it. Why not? Chouji’s a cute kid and I guess it’s an advantage to have Shikamaru around because then I can bring up wanting to talk to his dad when we’re a bit more acquainted.

“Dinner at yours?” the Nara heir seems intrigued. He turns to his chips munching friend and holds eye contact before settling on a smirk, “Sure.”

Naruto and I head back home after making it clear when they’re going to show up.   
Making friends, I decide, is incredibly easy when you’re eight. 


End file.
